Joe was actually a better cook than I was. Or rather, he enjoyed it more. At first that bothered me, but pretty soon I realized what a find he was, and so when it came to company or special dinners, I let him take charge in the kitchen, contenting myself with the job of assistant.
He laughed. “No spaghetti—but first, come here.”
As I looked up into his eyes, I felt myself falling again. Falling into his gaze, into his arms, into what had quickly become a deep and dangerous love. Dangerous because I hated showing any sign of vulnerability, dangerous because if something happened, this one would hurt in a way that I hadn’t felt since Roy and I broke up.
He pulled me to him and planted a long, leisurely kiss on my lips. “Let’s get washed up, woman!” he said, and grabbed me by the hand. We hustled upstairs to the bedroom.
“Do you have a clean shirt?” I asked.
He pulled one out of the drawer I’d cleared for him in my dresser. “Yeah, I replenished my stash yesterday. So, you want to hit the shower first? I’ve got to call the station and make sure everything’s running smoothly.”
As I stood under the steaming water, scrubbing away the dirt, my thoughts kept slipping back to the hole in the ground. Joe was probably right, it had to be the foundation or basement from an old house. Whatever it was, I didn’t like the energy. I had the oddest sensation that we’d awakened something when we exposed it to the light. Even under the pulsing hot water, a line of goose bumps rippled across my arm.
I toweled off, then wrapped myself in my terrycloth bathrobe before padding back to the bedroom. Joe was flipping through one of my Time for Tea magazines. He hastily tossed it on the bed when I came in.
I grinned. “Thinking of going into competition with me, Files?”
He snorted. “Just trying to get some ideas for a birthday present.”
“Aha! Caught you. Try perfume, jewelry, maybe a gift certificate for a spa day.” I’d been learning to enjoy little luxuries rather than focus on the practical all the time. “Everything okay at the station?”
He nodded, looking satisfied. “Yeah, Roger’s on top of stuff as usual. So far, it’s been a dead shift—which is just fine with me. Means nobody’s in trouble.” Joe was the captain of Chiqetaw’s medical rescue unit. Ultimately, he was responsible for all of the EMTs, and they couldn’t have chosen a more conscientious leader. The men’s safety came first and, even on his days off, he never let a shift go by without checking in.
As he stripped off his clothes I caught my breath, once again aware of how beautiful he was—my own Norse god come to sweep me away. He caught me looking and winked. Blushing, I shrugged, and he grabbed a fresh towel and headed into the shower.
I slipped onto the bench at my vanity. I’d cultivated a beauty ritual over the years, a daily pampering except on my grungiest of days when I was too tired to care. Opium dusting powder under my breasts, on my inner elbows, behind my knees. Matching lotion on arms and legs. Then deodorant, face cream, and finally, a spritz of Opium eau de toilette.
I examined my closet. What to wear on a cool autumn evening? With the changing season, I’d revamped my wardrobe. Maybe my relationship with Joe had rekindled my interest in clothing, or maybe Harlow had won and I’d turned into a girly girl, but whatever the cause, I’d begged her to go shopping with me.
She’d jumped at the chance. She was suffering from new-mother claustrophobia, and since her nanny was more reliable than Old Faithful, we spent an entire afternoon haunting the shops in Bellingham, heating up my credit card on calf-length rayon skirts and camisoles and crisp linen shirts. I’d even bought a new pair of suede knee-high boots that looked great with just about everything.
I slipped on my favorite bra and panties, shimmied into a flowing plum skirt and matching V-neck sweater, then hooked my gold chain belt around my newly resculpted waist. Yep, yoga had been good to me. I’d never be stick thin—wasn’t built for it and didn’t want to be. But at least I could fasten my jeans without sucking in my gut.
“I’m headed downstairs,” I called into the bathroom, and Joe let out a garbled “okay.”
I reached the foyer just as the front door opened and a gust of wind blew Kip and Miranda through the door. As I looked at them, I couldn’t help but think about how fast they were growing up. This year, after-school activities ate up their early evenings and neither one made it home till close to six most weeknights.
Miranda was tutoring others in science and math, while being tutored in English. Kip had computer club, and he’d just started gymnastics, for which he showed a surprising aptitude. Since I was usually at the shop until six, I’d taken comfort in the fact that they were being supervised while I was at work. Miranda might be fourteen, but I’d learned the hard way that even a small, friendly town like Chiqetaw held more than its fair share of dark secrets.
“Mom! Hey, you look pretty tonight. What’s the occasion?” Randa grinned at me as she dropped her backpack on the bench in the foyer and shrugged out of her coat.
I waited until they were both sans jackets and motioned them over for a hug. I managed to get in a quick peck on the cheek before they slipped away, out from under my wing. Yeah, they were growing up all right.
“How was school? Cause any trouble today?”
Randa rolled her eyes. “Come on, Mom, you’ve asked that every day since we started school this year. It’s getting old.”
“I stand corrected, but I still want an answer. What did you two do today?” I nodded toward the hall. “Come help me get dinner ready. Mr. Ledbetter’s coming to dinner.”
“Yay!” Kip said. He liked Horvald, who treated both of my kids like grandchildren. “What’s for dinner?”
“Joe’s grilling steaks on the porch.”
They followed me into the kitchen, where Kip scrambled up on the counter and pulled the cookie jar down from the cupboard. I held up two fingers and he nodded, handing Miranda two cookies and taking two for himself. Then, because he knew me all too well, he handed me a couple of Oreos. I winked at him and he laughed and put the jar away.
Randa hopped on the counter, swinging her legs as she nibbled on a cookie. “I had to meet with Gunner again today. Why are you making me go? Mrs. García de Lopez says my grade is borderline. If I study, I can probably bring up it up on my own.”
I tapped her knee. “No whining, Miss. You know perfectly well that, left on your own, you’d ignore it until it’s too late. I know exactly what you think about the English language when it’s not being used to describe a star system.”